Lizards and pe(s)ts

"PJ!!"

I would recognize this tone anywhere. She has seen a lizard. Or a cockroach.

"Please!!" It is a lizard.

Against cockroaches she sometimes fancies her chances, especially against the small ones. The 'please' then is more peremptory, less request than command.

Against lizards, it is well and truly pleading.

Plus, in the case of cockroaches, she calls the thing by name. The first indication that trouble is afoot might be "inarticulate scream!" followed by an articulate "Cockroach!". She doesn't refer to lizards by name. It is always me she calls out to. She believes I am some sort of beastmaster by virtue of watching Discovery Channel. I can make lizards disappear.

The first time it happened, I thought she found a body in the bedroom. I rushed inside, she was there, pale, quivering, cowering against the wall, pointing vaguely in a manner that could mean almost anything in the room. I asked her what happened - she wouldn't say. I looked around for something (I had no idea what) in the room: in the cupboard, behind the door, on the shelves, in the bathroom and came up with nothing. At the best of times when I do know what I am looking for, I can't find it. Even if sometimes it is right there staring up at me.

She started screaming "There it is! There it is!" as I went across to the bed to look under it. There was a small gecko next to the bed on the floor, staring up at me. It wouldn't run when I approached, I figured it must be stupid. So I moved it gently aside with my foot to look under the bed. She screamed again. Louder. Shriek-ier. "Is it dead?"

"What is dead?" I asked. She opened her eyes and saw me move the lizard.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!!"

"What happened?"

I was getting a bit bewildered. For the life of me I could not figure out what the furore was about. The lizard thought it had heard enough. It decided to leave the room. This action took it directly towards my wife.

She screamed again. "DO SOMETHING! IT IS COMING AT ME!!"

"Its not coming at you. It just wants to go out. Let it pass, its minding its own business."

She went purple. And then the penny dropped. The root of said furore was this 'harmless' lizard.

She let me have it.

"IT IS A LIZARD! IT IS DANGEROUS!! IT HAS NO RIGHT TO BE HERE. THIS IS MY HOUSE. I DON'T WANT LIZARDS HERE AND HAD I KNOWN YOUR EVERLASTING LOVE FOR THESE PESTS I WOULD NEVER HAVE MARRIED YOU!!!"

So this is what it came to. A small reptile could lead to the termination of the eternal vows we had taken. Apparently 'For better or for worse' does not include lizards anywhere in the package. I thought she was being querulous. I told her not to look at the vows literally, but to look at the spirit of things. She was having none of that. The ultimatum was delivered: either the lizard or her and I had three seconds to decide.

I have never managed to figure out how someone could be so scared and yet drive such a hard bargain. And so fast.

I tried to reason with her, I tried to buy time. I told her how lizards had been around on the planet for longer than we had. I told her how lizards ate other things she did not want around the house like moths, mosquitoes, spiders and cockroaches. She said she didn't care and in any case she had never seen a lizard eat a cockroach. The fact that she had never stayed long enough to see a lizard properly was neither here nor there. The fact that I brought it up revoked my sleeping-in-the-bedroom privileges.

The lizard apparently found this conversation boring and sauntered off. It was nowhere to be seen.

We launched a hunt for it. I moved the furniture and kept a rolled up newspaper in my back-pocket for use as a weapon. ("What will you do once you find it? I don't want you touching it. Take a newspaper.")

She climbed a stool and from that vantage gave directions.

The lizard had disappeared, which I thought was a good thing.

I told her I thought she had scared it off. She did not think it funny and accused me of harbouring it somewhere in the apartment. I pointed out the impossibility of it since I was under observation all this time as she directed operations from her HQ: the highest point in the room.

She didn't believe me, but after a while she did come down from the stool. Thankfully we saw no more lizards for a few weeks. I genuinely believed that she could get to know and accommodate these animals. I tried to understand what she has against them and started to educate her on these wonderful animals.

No they are not slimy, they are quite dry and scaly.

(HAVE YOU ACTUALLY TOUCHED ONE?)

No, they are not poisonous, only two are poisonous anyway, with a suspected third.

No, they do not attack humans, at least the ones in our house don't. They are scared of you.

No, they don't creep, they walk on all fours just like babies crawl. COMPARING BABIES AND LIZARDS? ARE YOU NUTS?!

I thought maybe because they were small she felt uncomfortable. I took her to the zoo and showed her the Komodo dragons at feeding time. Bad move. It is amazing how people will watch with awe big cats do something and turn away with disgust at big lizards doing exactly the same thing.

Well, I thought familiarity would get her more comfortable. I was wrong.

A few days later we saw another lizard. Another scream, another 'situation'. The Beastmaster was called in. I tried continuing my education programme and told her it was a gecko. She accused me of having made it a pet (YOU EVEN HAVE A NAME FOR IT?!).

I did manage to chivvy it out the window. I assured my wife that it had plunged five floors. She was sceptical, but came down from the stool.

Thankfully, the lizards have come in only infrequently and I have not been required to take any drastic steps so far. Chivvying them has worked. I have put in lizard traps (they never work) to assure the General-Officer-in-Command that defences are in place and robust. I even inspect them periodically and move them around.

Plus I toe the official line.

A lizard is a pest.

Getting rid of lizards has added another positive entry to the meagre list under my name of things I can do (flattening toothpaste tubes from the bottom up and changing light bulbs being the other important items on that list).

So the next time we have a free and frank exchange of views, I fervently hope for a lizard to show up to deflect attention and make life a bit easier. I sometimes even leave crumbs behind the TV.